


Can Dreams Really Come True?

by Reck2468



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Backstory, Fluff and Angst, Kinda weird pov, Not really any relationships - Freeform, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 21:44:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10290791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reck2468/pseuds/Reck2468
Summary: My back story for Bendy and the ink machine.





	

          Do dreams really come true? Can they become reality if you just try hard enough? Some may scoff, saying dreams are for little children with too much time on their hands. But for some, dreams are everything. It's what makes them rise from bed in the morning ready for another day. A day to make dreams come true for themselves, as well as others. How could that ever be a bad thing?

  Could reality be not good enough for their dreams?

* * *

 

          Henry was ecstatic. The board had finally excepted his design for the new cartoon. Paired with his bosses new character, Boris, the two would be the next dynamic duo. Bendy the dancing demon and Boris the wolf. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? He was quite proud of the turnout, so many versions of this little devil was rejected before he could create the perfect one. Well, at least what his boss, Joey Drew supposedly thought was perfect. There was almost no pleasing him. Henry suspected Joey  _still_ wasn't completely happy with little Bendy, but oh well, that can't be helped.

          Today he sat complacently at his drawing desk, humming pieces of a tune being fabricated as he went. His wide wooden desk that stood in a small offset of the main corridor was littered with his newest star, a black cheerful demon in a bowtie and gloves. Some variations with pink tutus or black coattails were scattered here and there, but all of the black pointy-horned inks depicted a rather sassy big grin, white owlish face, and dancing shoes. Taped to the wall next to Henry's small nook was an inking of a friendly black wolf. "Boris the Wolf" labeled the bottom of the page in his bosses large, scrolling letters. Henry thought that was a fine idea, a sassy, quirky little dancing demon and his large goofy friend. Who wouldn't love them?

          And everyone did. Well, almost everyone, Henry's fiancée was a bit more keen on raising a family with a steady paycheck, not one dependent on the audience's laughter. After a little while, and a few years later, that was fine with Henry. Joey and some other members of the team did most of the animation anyway, as long as they remember to credit him for the creation of Bendy. In fact, Henry was glad to move on and be rid of that old workshop. It was so small, he barely had room to think, and sometimes it dripped ink from the ceiling. Joey said it was nothing to worry about, so he never did. 

          So away Henry went from the little cartoon workshop, and moved on with more average things in mind. His dreams were relatively easy to achieve, and they were going to continue to become easier for most of his life. Henry never really pushed himself too hard to be perfect, and that was perfectly fine in his book.

          It wasn't fine for Joey Drew. His expectations, his dreams, they never satisfied him. They were always dependent on others.  _Too_ dependent on others. The perfect ideal he crafted in his head was rarely portrayed on screen by his workers. That is why he scared them away. Never anything illegal, that would be terrible for his business. But something to make them leave for good, something enough to shut them up so they never speak of animating  _his_ creations again. It was perfectly fine if they thought he was crazy, he doesn't need them. He doesn't  _want_ them. Their thoughts were never good enough to consider for long. Except maybe Henry, but only after weeks of retarded ideas, and what's the point since he's already gone. Why was perfection so much to ask?  _He_ could do it just fine. Perfectly, even.

          Joey couldn't remember the last time he had this much fun. Frightening his workers over time by pretending to sacrifice to an ink monster, placing sprinklers above their desks to spurt dark, foreboding ink on their pages. It did slow down work efficiency though, to his dismay. It's fine, it's fine, he knew he'd better get used to it, since soon they will all be finally gone and he will be able to work perfectly in peace.

          Some ink leaks, however, were annoyingly not predetermined. The sheer volume of the black liquid that Joey bought and horded inevitably cracked the piping in a few places. Who cares though? Soon he will be alone. No one will mumble about the stained ceilings, or the constant puttering of his special ink machine. It will be just him. There are no pipes around his room, why should he care? 

          One after another the employees quit. Out of fear, exhaustion, or irritation, he couldn't tell. And frankly, he didn't care. Joey didn't care about a lot of things, mostly things that could never be perfect or that didn't concern him. But finally, he was alone.

          Just Joey, his machine, and his dreams.

          Well, almost alone.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic ever! So please leave your comments, I want to get more into writing.


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